


You and I

by zeldadestry



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:17:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are real and they know what they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fannore (lothkitten)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lothkitten/gifts).



"Hello, Echo." Dr. Saunders is sitting behind her desk. She closes the notebook she was writing in and rests her hands on top of it.

"Hello." Echo sits down across from her.

"Do you need something?"

"Yeah. I actually, I wanted to talk to you." Sometimes Echo wonders if all her remembrance began with Whiskey. There were times during assignments when Whiskey would moan, or lick her lips, or cry, god, she was so sensitive, so responsive, she'd cry when she came, and Echo would think: I know this woman. I've done this before. We've done this before and it's always been this good.

"About what?"

"What we used to do together, when you were Whiskey."

Dr. Saunders drops her gaze. "Please, don't. Don't use that name."

"Then can I call you Claire? We both know we were actives. I just want to know what you remember from when we worked together."

"I think you should go. I want you to go."

Echo leans across the table, lowers her voice. "Look, I'm not trying to hurt you. I would never hurt you."

"No, you had Alpha for that."

"You know I never wanted that, any of that." She reaches out to brush her fingertips across Whiskey's cheek. "I loved being with you. You made me so wet."

"Echo, I don't think we should talk like this." Whiskey pulls at her lab coat as if to remind them both of the role she's playing. "It's inappropriate."

Echo's fingers don't stop, they continue tracing across Whiskey's face. "You're as beautiful now as you were then. I just want you to know that." Whiskey's lips are so hot and soft underneath Echo's touch. "Look at me, please? You have the most beautiful eyes."

Whiskey smiles. "You always did have a crush on me."

  


There are certain conversations employees of the Dollhouses have that make Ivy uncomfortable. If a person take their job as programmer seriously and wants to leave no trace of themselves in the imprints then it's important not to get drawn into questions like: ok, if you absolutely had to choose a doll, which one would it be? That's too dangerous a game to even approach. Programmers should not be exploring any interest in or attraction for an active.

She's always been able to answer that question honestly, anyway. None.

Sierra's current imprint is named Honey. "Well, hello," she says, walking up to Ivy and snaking an arm around her waist. "Aren't you a yummy one," she purrs. "What do you say? Can I have a taste?"

Oh, god, Ivy thinks, is this why? Is this why people pay all the money and compromise every ethic, just so they can have this, someone looking at them with such undiluted desire? Honey takes Ivy's pause as an invitation, pushes her back up against the wall and falls to her knees, nuzzling her face in between Ivy's legs.

"Stop it," Ivy orders, pulling at Honey's hair.

"You like it rough?"

Honey's holding onto her thighs and Ivy topples over as she struggles away. "Get in the chair, Sierra!" She's on her feet again, although completely unnerved.

"My name is Honey, isn't it?" Her eyes plead for answers. "But - there is a Sierra, isn't there? I know that name."

"It's time for your treatment, remember?"

"Oh, yes. I like my treatments."

"I know," Ivy says, hands trembling as she gestures to the chair. "Make yourself comfortable."

Shit, Ivy thinks, after she's wiped Sierra and sent her away. No more moral high horse for her. She finally has an answer to that execrable question.

  


Is knowing you're a doll the shittiest worst feeling? Of course it is, don't ever let anyone tell you differently, and it's made harder by not even being able to call that horrible feeling MINE. Imagine that. Sickening, right?

"Hey," Ivy says, walking into the clinic and sitting down on the examining table. "The back of my throat's been kind of itchy the last couple of days and I'm starting to feel hot, too. Would you mind taking a look?"

"Not at all," Claire answers, washing her hands and then applying the sanitizer. Ivy's eyes fall shut when Claire begins to gently examine the outside of her throat. "One of your lymph nodes is significantly enlarged." Ivy's skin is so smooth and warm. Claire pulls her hands away and Ivy's eyes open.

"Is something wrong?"

Claire shakes her head, but Ivy's looking at her so carefully, and one of her hands flies up to her cheek as though seeking to cover her scars. Did Topher do this to her? Did Topher make her want Ivy, imagine her naked, their bodies tangling together in bed? No, not him. Topher doesn't appreciate Ivy. He never realizes what he has, just as he is blind to what he does. He jumps when Claire passes by him. She freaks him out so completely, a coward with his own creations.

Would whoever the she she was before she became a doll want this? Who wants? Her body? Her mind? Both?

She's not a doll, not anymore. The day she found out she was one she escaped from her box.

Is it only a joke to imagine an unassailable spark, a freedom no one can touch?

You're an idiot, Topher Brink, she thinks, and leans in towards Ivy. "You're so pretty to me," she whispers. "To me."


End file.
